Set Condition One for Gummi Ship
by Venneh
Summary: Crossover between BSG and Kingdom Hearts, set between 2.15 and 2.17 for BSG and pre-Radiant Garden for Kingdom Hearts. Starbuck receives a distress call from a small ship while on patrol, and the Galactica gets an unexpected guest.


**Title:** Set Condition One For Gummi Ship**  
Author:** Venneh**  
Fandom:** Battlestar Galactica (2003)/Kingdom Hearts  
**Prompt/Challenge:** William Adama rescues Ansem the Wise from some kind of trouble**  
Author's Notes:** Set between 2.15 and 2.17 of BSG and pre-Radiant Garden's fall for KH, first in a trio. Also, thanks to my beta for helping me iron out the kinks in this!

"_Galactica_, this is Starbuck, come in. I have a... well, frak, do we have a code for hot rod red Viperish looking ship in distress?"

There was a sort of stunned silence in the CIC, various personnel looking at each other, as if to confirm what they had just heard. Oh, they certainly had their interesting calls from patrols, and the Dradis had shown unfamiliar signals before, but this probably had to be the single most interesting description they'd ever heard pretty much ever.

Starbuck's description made even the normally composed Admiral Adama pause to look at his radio. However, to his credit, he kept a stoic face and a calm voice as he asked, "Starbuck, this is _Galactica_ actual... could you repeat that?"

"Uhm.. there's a ship out here at the edge of the fleet, it sure as hell looks like a Viper, except for the fact that it's flaming red, and it's definitely in distress. I mean, yeah, I know it's kind of unbelievable. Frak, I didn't even believe it myself at first. But.." There was a burst of static before Starbuck continued, "Hang on, he's sending out the distress call again, I'll patch you in."

There was another few loud bursts of static before a male voice, regal and under duress echoed through the CIC, "I repeat, my ship's engines have taken damage, and I cannot keep her operating much longer. Requesting aid."

Starbuck came back on the radio with another burst of static. "Well, there you have it, sir. Do you want me to respond or do we leave him hanging?"

Adama paused. It didn't seem like a Cylon trap; it was far too obvious if it was, and never once had they actually baited a trap with a ship in distress actually appearing by the fleet. However, you could never be too careful. "Starbuck, stand by." He turned to Dee. "Put me through to Madame President, please."

There was a pause as Dee worked the connections, and then another voice chimed in on the line. "This is the President."

"Madame President, this is _Galactica _actual. We have an interesting situation, here. Starbuck is out on patrol, and she's come across a damaged single-person aircraft that she's described as, and I quote, 'a hot rod red Viperish looking ship in distress'. She patched the pilot's distress call through as well, and it sounds like he's definitely having trouble."

There was a pause, and then Roslin asked, "How bad is the damage?"

It doesn't take Starbuck long to assess the damage. "Well, sirs, from what I can see, his engines have got limited thrust capacity; enough to go in short bursts, but no way he can get anywhere anytime soon without someone helping the ship along."

Adama glanced around the CIC, trying to gauge the personnel's reactions as he asked neutrally, "Starbuck, what do you think?"

"What, are you asking if it's a Cylon trap?" she responded bluntly. "Well, I really doubt it. They've never been this... well, obvious, up till now. Besides, I don't think he's that much of a threat. He's got weapons on the ship, yeah, but they're not exactly the greatest in the world; really rudimentary. If he even tries anything, I'll be able to blast him to kingdom come before he can even fire them up."

Adama nodded. "Madame President? What do you think?"

She paused, and her hesitance was clear in her voice as she continued.. "...I don't know. It's just... how do we know that it's not a trap? The Cylons have been showing that they're more than capable of baiting us with what we least expect, especially as of late. And we know nothing about this person, whoever he may be. All of this leads me to think that letting the pilot onboard the _Galactica_ would compromise the fleet's safety."

"That's true, Madame President. But leaving him stranded out there doesn't sit well with me, either," Adama says, pointedly.

Roslin clearly took offense to what Adama thought she was implying. "That's not what I was suggesting at all! Just... is there any way that we can minimize the risk to the fleet if we take the man on board? I just don't want a Cylon waltzing onto the _Galactica_!"

Starbuck cut in. "Permission to speak, sirs?"

Adama wanted to defuse things with the President at the moment, so he responded, "Permission granted."

"I'm not good with leaving this guy out here, either. But maybe we just take him on board, but take him to the brig, make sure he's not a toaster or going to try and blow up the ship or anything. This way, we don't leave him out there stranded, but we're careful about bringing him on board," Starbuck suggested, trying not to sound like she was trying to tell either Adama or Roslin what to do.

Adama nodded. "That sounds fine with me. Probably what I would have had done, anyways. Madame President?"

Roslin is blunt. "I want guards. Not saying that you and Captain Thrace aren't capable of handling them on your own, but I want every precaution taken, here."

"All right," Adama concedes. He knows when to back down. "Starbuck, your orders are to escort the ship to the i_Galactica/i_ and we'll see what we can do to aid the pilot, after confirming that he is not, in fact, a Cylon. But keep a close eye on him; one false move, and you are to open fire. I'll meet you down in the hangar bay with a contingent of guards."

"Aye aye, sir. Starbuck, over and out."

"And I assume I will be seeing you soon, Madame President?"

"I'll have Billy send over a Raptor from _Colonial One_. We'll be seeing you shortly, Admiral."

As Roslin terminated the radio contact, Adama turned to Dee. "Dee, I need you to let Tyrol know that we have Starbuck incoming with a possible Viper that needs repair work along with Madame President's Raptor, and have Tigh send down a small contingent of Marines to the hangar bay, and take over the CIC while I'm down there." He nodded to the rest of the personnel in the CIC as he turned to leave. "Carry on."

The gods only knew if this was a survivor who had simply gotten separated from a fleet somewhere, another Cylon masquerading as a human, or something else entirely. Either way, he'd give the man a chance to explain himself before he decided whether he was friend or foe.

--

The moment he stepped into the hangar bay, he couldn't help but blink a few times. Starbuck had given him a pretty apt description of the ship; it looked like a Viper all right, and the sheer _red _of it stood out against the metallic gray of the ship and seemed to make the orange jumpsuits of the deckhands even more vibrant.

The ship's cockpit was open, but from this angle, Adama couldn't see who was inside it. Starbuck was up on one of the deckhand's cockpit ladders and was talking to whoever was inside, effectively blocking his view.

Tyrol, on the other hand, was standing with two other deckhands just below the ship's engines, all of them looking frustrated and confused, on the edge of exasperation. He snapped to attention almost immediately after his eyes fell on the Admiral, though, keeping his face carefully clear of anything that indicated how he felt one way or the other about their distress call.

"At ease. So, Tyrol, what can you tell me about our ship in distress here?" Adama asked.

Tyrol forced out a sharp bark of laughter. "I wish I could tell you, Admiral. I mean, as you can see, for all intents and purposes, it looks like a Viper in its construction, though not so much in the color scheme. But there's some very... interesting differences between any Viper that I've ever worked on and this ship." He pointed up to the ship's belly. "If you would, sir, just put your hand up there and feel the material."

Adama lifted his hand so that his palm was resting flat against the ship's belly. He blinked, hesitating and lifting his hand away, looking just as confused as Tyrol and his deckhands had just previously. After a moment, he laid his hand flat against the ship's belly again, firmer than before. Then he looked up at Tyrol. "Tyrol, am I right in saying that the material this ship is made out of feels like... gummy candies?"

Tyrol nodded. "That's not even the half of it. The weapons are built along the same lines as the Vipers, but at the same time, they're like nothing I've ever seen. The engines are a lot simpler than any Viper's, but they look like they're capable of FTL travel, which is intriguing in and of itself. There's some damage to them, though, and if I had some schematics to look at I might actually be able to do something about fixing them and at least making the ship flyable." He grinned, almost as wide as the time the Blackbird had been taken out for its first flight; the grin of a mechanic. "Even if it weren't damaged, I'd love to see the schematics for this period, just to see how it works; I don't think the pilot would really appreciate me taking this thing apart and trying to put it back together."

"I'll see what I can do about that," Adama said, smiling at Tyrol's eagerness. "In the meantime, get her somewhere out of the way, if you can."

Tyrol nodded. "Yes, sir."

Adama walked towards the nose of the ship, ducking under the wings as he did so. As he came closer, he saw that Starbuck had gotten the pilot out of the cockpit and onto the ground, and was talking to him. And in all honesty, the man who had his back to him was the last person that he would've thought was a pilot. His hair was almost as long as the President's was, and it was the same bright blonde as Starbuck's, though muted some. He wasn't wearing anything resembling a flight suit; he was in a crisp white lab coat, with a red scarf wrapped around his neck, and what looked like a suit underneath.

Starbuck was standing just across and to the side of him, and saw Adama approaching, straightening up a bit, but not much. "Hey, Commander. I'd like you to meet Ansem the Wise, our apparent pilot." She then turned to the other man. "Ansem, the guy behind you is Admiral William Adama, head of the fleet."

Ansem turned around, and the first thing that Adama noticed about him were his eyes. They were the color of an amber pendant, compelling, inviting, and open. The other thing he noticed was his apparent age; the lines on his forehead and their beginnings around his mouth bespoke years of worries and cares, as did the muted blonde and receding of his hair, and the depths of his eyes held knowledge in them gathered over a long time. He had to be close to Adama's age.

Ansem smiled broadly at Adama. When he spoke, his voice was deep and rich, the kind you would want in a leader or confidante. "I thank you for rescuing me back there; I think we may have overestimated our gummi ship's capabilities. It's her first test run, and I should have been more careful about it."

Adama's eyebrows raised. "Oh?" He was intrigued, that much was for sure, and at least now he had a name to put to the ship, which was surprisingly apt.

Ansem smiled a bit sheepishly. "Yes. Cid and the boys and my daughter had just perfected the designs, and this is the first one that hasn't blown up or just plain refused to work in the simple flight test, so I thought I'd test its world-jumping capabilities. I took some damage, and this world was the closest, so I jumped in, and I lost radio contact with them somewhere along the way. I imagine they'll be looking for me soon enough."

"Ah. I see."

Ansem looked over Adama's shoulder, and his eyes narrowed. Adama could hear the sounds of the small Marine contingent he'd had Tigh order down. He'd wanted the gap between his and the Marines' arrival so that he could hopefully get the man to relax. And Starbuck had been at least trying to get him to do that, too. But Marines tended to make anyone nervous, and no doubt a trip to the brig wouldn't do anything to improve that.

"Mr... Ansem, if you would just come this way? We have some questions for you."

Ansem was immediately more reserved and guarded than he had been a few moments earlier. "It doesn't seem as if I have that much of a choice, do I?" he responded, arching an eyebrow. "Lead the way, Admiral."

The Marines fell into loose formation around Ansem, with Starbuck at least attempting to stay close to him, and with Adama at the head, leading the way to the brig.

He didn't seem like a Cylon, and at the very least, the man was likable. But likability meant nothing when it came down to who was and wasn't a Cylon, as Boomer had proven. And there was something off about him nonetheless, speaking of other worlds and jumping between them, and the more he could find out, the better for the fleet.


End file.
